


Carry Me Like Hime

by MONANIK



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Caring Kageyama Tobio, Developing Friendships, Falling In Love, Gay Disaster Hinata Shoyou, Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio Friendship, Hinata is just really gay for Kageyama, Idiots in Love, Kageyama has a cat, Light Angst, M/M, Pining Hinata Shouyou, Tenderness, The one that didn't hate him so he took it home, This is so soft ive never written something so pure, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MONANIK/pseuds/MONANIK
Summary: Shoyou spends most days admiring the width of Kageyama's shoulders, or the size of his hands, or the length of his legs; and realizes as his hands are enveloped by Kageyama's that he's really good at filing nails, and that Shoyou really likes how easily his hands engulf Shoyou's.It's all a little rattling, really.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 18
Kudos: 448





	Carry Me Like Hime

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just an excuse for me to project my size kink onto Hinata but soft version.  
> No, seriously, I'm obsessed with their size differnce yall don't understand. 
> 
> In apology for going on a hiatus through february, I decided to post a little something for whoever finds joy in my dumb stories.  
> I might write more oneshots, if I find the time, so it's not a full fledged hiatus. 
> 
> Cheers!

Shoyou hadn’t expected it, but Kageyama’s hands were soft and warm.

His immediate assumption was that tender way in which he cared for them, or the meticulous way he groomed himself, but nothing had prepared Shoyou for the feelings of Kageyama’s hands around his; swallowing them like big potlids; heated from the steam and perfect in so many ways.

It had started as something completely mundane. A broken fingernail. Nothing more, nothing less. Shoyou was in kind terms less caring of his hands, especially his nails, and had perhaps let them grow just a bit too long. He’d dived for a ball—or, more like, thrown himself at the floor in hopes of touching the ball before it touched the wood he so mercilessly crashed face-first into—and had somewhere during the pall hit his hand; effectively breaking his fingernail so bad its ragged edge was sharp against his skin. It caught in his hair and his clothes, and got more annoying by each minute that passed, so, of course, he did the only sensible thing without having to leave the court.

He asked Kageyama for his file.

Of course, he knew he had one; he’d seen him tend to his hands like they were the temple of Buddha. He’d witnessed his obsession firsthand. So, logically, he asked.

Which he shouldn’t have, in hindsight.

Turns out, Shoyou isn’t very good at handling a nail file. His grooming habits rarely extended beyond showering, washing his hands and cutting his nails so short it almost hurt. He had not the slightest clue as to how to use a nail file, which didn’t sit well with his partner.

“You’re actually a dumbass,” he’d grumbled, “Don’t you know how to use a fucking nail file? Are you slow?”

Shoyou had been about to retort; to throw a nasty word his way in kind, or to berate him for his nasty personality, but all thoughts of vengeance fled his mind the moment big, big hands grabbed a hold of his.

They were _huge._ Dinner plates compared to Shoyou’s. They swallowed his hands whole. The grip, at first firm and irritated, quickly eased into practiced calm. A sense of familiarity bled through Kageyama’s movements, and if Shoyou hadn’t known better he’d have confused him for one of the ladies at the salon his mom frequents every year before Christmas. It was mesmerizing to watch, but entirely besotting to _feel._ Prior to that incident, Shoyou wouldn’t in a million years have guessed that Kageyama’s hands were so soft and gentle, so tender his heart clenched painfully tight in his chest.

Kageyama had beautiful hands. Trimmed, tended nails. Not too short, not too long—just right. Long, slender fingers. Veins that grew like wines and fled into the hem of his white shirt. Soft, even, tanned skin. The most subtle hint of an old, pale scratch on his left thumb. Not a single bruise or broken cuticle. Beautiful.

Every drag of the file, every second Shoyou’s nail came closer to Kageyama’s satisfaction and unavoidable completion of his task—Shoyou wanted to drag out to infinity. It felt _good._ Comforting in a way nothing had before, and he didn’t know why.

Not then.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

His thoughts of Kageyama’s hands were quickly put to the back of his head, in a folder he’d surely revisit during different circumstances, and he went on with his life seemingly unaffected.

Until the club decided that some food after a particularly painful five-setter against Nekoma was in its rights, and the whole of Karasuno stopped at a moderately flooded restaurant for fuel.

Like last time, it had started with something simple. Mundane.

They hadn’t managed to find a table big enough for all of them and settled instead for the two tables closest to the entrance. Gusty winds blew past every time someone opened the door, and the chill of it crept up his naked arms. Goosebumps scattered themselves across his skin, and every movement that fanned air his way made him shiver. He really should have taken his jacket from the bus, but he’d been warm post practice and hadn’t thought he’d be needing it.

He was sitting there, wallowing in his self-pity, when a blanket of warmth enveloped him from behind. Over his shoulders Kageyama had draped his jacket as inconspicuously as he’d been able to, though Shoyou was sure Yamaguchi had noticed—judging by the quick way in which he averted his gaze and stared intently at his food.

What was on Shoyou’s mind, however, was certainly not Yamaguchi’s lingering gaze.

“Don’t you dare get a cold.” A grumpy voice growled from his left.

Kageyama’s eyes were trained on the movement of his hands where they held his chopsticks. He wasn’t looking at Shoyou, and the frown he was sporting was a spectacular sight in itself, but Shoyou’s only concern was the fabric in which he was practically immersed from tip to toe.

The jacket was big on him. Wide and long. It draped over his shoulders and accumulated in a heap by his sides. Swirls of blue shone in the light of the restaurant lamps; the dark fabric almost silky to the touch.

It smelled like Kageyama; something warm and intense, spicy and hot and icy all at once. Something uniquely Kageyama. A mix of him and his deodorant, and the shampoo he used—which Shoyou was scarily familiar with. The many times he’d fallen asleep on his shoulder had imprinted the scent of him in Shoyou’s head, and nothing in this world could erase it.

He was positively beaming in his seat, and the heat he’d longed before seemed to have rushed to fill its place in his cheeks.

Again, he still didn’t understand what that meant. Why it made him so insanely happy to wear Kageyama’s jacket. Why the action had felt so tender and private. Something shared between the two of them that no one else, not even nosy Yamaguchi, could pry from him.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

By the third time it happened, Shoyou’s mind had already set itself up for a disaster.

They were, like every time, doing something utterly, completely, entirely too mundane. Something which, in their second year, had become nature to them. An everyday occurrence.

They were eating lunch, sitting side by side on the rooftop, with their legs stretched out before them. Kageyama was munching away on his bento and seemed completely lost in thought. Sometimes he got quiet like that, and it always made Shoyou wonder what caused it. What went on in his head whenever he forgot about the world around him.

Those times, Shoyou had learned it best to leave him to his own. So, instead, he let his own thoughts wander until his eyes begun lazily trek the familiarly unfamiliar planes of Kageyama’s long, long legs.

He knew he was shorter—by a lot, really (which he wouldn’t ever admit)—but he sometimes forgot just how big that _a lot_ was. Sitting like that, side by side, Shoyou noticed the way his legs barely reached halfway down Kageyama’s calves. How his shoes, a couple of sizes smaller, appeared child-like compared to Kageyama’s.

But then his thoughts started to spiral to things beyond Kageyama’s height. Like to the subtle gleam of sunlight on dark leg hair, or the way in which gravity pronounced the firm muscles in his calves. The way tendons and quads twitched and moved with Kageyama’s every movement. He even caught himself memorizing the pattern of scratches and scars on Kageyama’s knees, and the tiny mole on the side of his right calf.

He tore his gaze away. The furnace of his face wouldn’t cool, so he settled for something Shoyou knew he was good at. Talking.

“Where’d you get your height from?” he asked.

It took him a moment, but eventually he tore his gaze away from his bento to glance over at a still fuming Shoyou. “Why you ask?”

“Just curious. Is it all that milk? Or did your parents feed you special proteins as a baby?” he joked, trying to keep it light and familiar.

Kageyama scoffed. It was a soft, gentle sound. Void of the hostility it once used to carry. Shoyou desperately wanted it to be hostile. “Believe it or not, but it’s just genetics,” he said and lazily twirled noodles around his chopsticks. “My parents are both tall,” he explained.

Shoyou hummed and didn’t say more on the topic.

That’d been the first time Kageyama had mentioned his parents. He wasn’t about to ruin the moment, or his trust in Shoyou.

So, he didn’t prod.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Rain came as a surprise that day.

What had started as a bright and sunny day had by the end of their afternoon practice turned into a gloomy, grey thing; threatening with downpour.

Shoyou and Kageyama were walking home, side by side, like every other day. It was all so incredibly normal, and then it suddenly wasn’t.

It took mother earth less than a minute to heave all wrath upon them, and from the mouth above let loose a flow of ice-cold rain. It came crashing down in heavy droplets and soaked them through and through in seconds.

“My place!” Kageyama had huffed, ducking his head under his bag. “It’s closer!”

And that’s how he later found himself in Kageyama’s house. Surprisingly enough, for the first time since he’d met him. He maybe understood why he’d never been invited prior.

The moment they stepped inside they were greeted with nothing but darkness. Patter of heavy rainfall echoed from the kitchen window, visible from the front door, but aside from whatever light came from the outside the entire house stood in a void so dark he could barely see his own feet below him.

Kageyama flicked a switch, and a light came on; doused the cold, deserted house in its light. Kageyama didn’t announce his arrival to anyone, he simply took of his shoes and jacket, threw down his bag, and stepped inside. There were no voices from the hallway, no tall, black-haired mother there to greet them. Just silence.

“I have some clothes you can borrow. They might be big on you though, but it’s better than wearing sweaty practice clothes?” It was almost posed as a question. Shoyou only nodded and tried his hardest to will his face to calm down whatever disaster was unfolding.

Kageyama told him to follow, but the moment they turned the patter of soft, tiny feet met them from the top of the stairs.

From the darkness above came strutting towards them a beautiful white cat. Its fur was soft; as white as daisies and as long and soft as the mats his mother so desperately wanted to buy for their couch.

“Kageyama!” he exclaimed in utter bafflement, “You have a cat?!”

He bent to greet the fluffy creature and watched in further astonishment as it completely ignored Shoyou in favor of pawing at Kageyama’s legs, meowing loudly for his attention.

“I’ve only had her for a few months,” he said and bent to pick her up.

“What’s her name?” he asked and watched wide-eyed as the furry little thing nuzzled its head into Kageyama’s chest and armpit in utter bliss.

“ _Hime…”_

If his jaw could unhinge, it probably wood. Sure. Of course, Kageyama of all would name his adorably affectionate cat—the only creature on the planet actually enjoying his presence— _princess._ That absolutely, definitely fit the image he had of Kageyama.

Kageyama defensively, and with the cutest blush gracing his stony features, waved off all Shoyou’s attempts at cooing and prodding at Hime and him.

They eventually made their way to Kageyama’s tragically barren room, where not a single picture decorated the walls. He wasn’t in the least surprised to see the weights on the floor, or the hundreds of sport-magazines by his bed. Other than that, the room held no indication of life.

Not at first glance.

But Shoyou was stubborn, and nosy, and searched through his desk while Kageyama rummaged for a change of clothes. In the corner, out of direct view, was a picture. The lack of dust on it told Shoyou everything he needed to know.

It was a picture of a pair, standing on each side of what was obviously a very young Kageyama. He couldn’t have been older than ten, judging by the bright smile and the missing tooth. He looked happy; engulfed in their care. Nothing like the Tobio Shoyou knew today.

“Why are you prying into my private life,” a familiar voice accused.

“Not prying, just observing,” he said and turned towards Kageyama, who was holding two piles of clothes in his arms. “These your parents?” he asked.

The woman, tall and beautiful, had long black hair and the fiercest eyes Shoyou had ever seen on a human not Kageyama. Well, he supposed this one counted as a Kageyama, too. The man, even taller, was Kageyama’s exact copy if it wasn’t for the parting of his hair to one side. They were both dressed in fine-pressed suits and held themselves with an air of nonchalant confidence only high-status people held themselves with.

“Yeah,” he said, short and simple, and Shoyou once again didn’t pry.

He didn’t have to.

Hime came up from behind, and insistently rubbed all over Kageyama’s legs until he shoved her gently with his foot.

“Here. Put these on,” he said and handed Shoyou a black short-sleeve and a pair of shorts, and then, without a single warning, threw his own pile on the bed and stripped out of his clothes in two swift movements.

Shoyou was left gaping at him. His traitorous gaze fell into every dip and curve of his back. Measured the breadth of his shoulders and lapped the length of his trapezius; the way in which it dramatically creased by his spine and gave his back that terrible, terrible definition that sent Shoyou’s head reeling every time.

It’s not like he’d never undressed near Kageyama, or seen Kageyama naked—more naked than in his underwear, might he add—but something about seeing him undress in his own house, with his cat lazily nudging him from the edge of his bed, the moonlight seeping in from outside; something about that made his stomach lurch in the worst nerves and best delight he’d ever experienced in his life. 

He didn’t say anything, only boiled in silence, and prayed to every God out there that Kageyama wouldn’t notice his furious blush.

It didn’t help that he swam, once more, in Kageyama’s clothes. The shorts that were surely a little tight on Kageyama reached past Shoyou’s knees and were tied tightly around his waist.

-

┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐

_And whatever I lack, you make up.  
We make a really good team, though not everyone sees we got this crazy chemistry._

_And we take jokes way too far, ‘cause sometimes living's too hard.  
We're like two halves of one heart.  
  
_

└────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘

-

They settled down, later, on the couch in the living room. Every attempt from Shoyou to earn Hime’s affection had gone unnoticed or straight up gotten rejected by her royalty. She’d settled comfortably to Kageyama’s left, head on his thigh.

Shoyou lazily scrolled through the many evening programs.

Little did he know it’d been a dire mistake to ignore Kageyama’s constant protests to _just chose something,_ for the next moment his hands were around Shoyou’s wrist, and his scent invaded his nose again as Kageyama pressed him into the couch and forcefully yanked the remote out of his hand, grumbling all the while about him being a dumbass—or something. Shoyou had stopped listening.

He remained where he was, utterly shocked.

It had been fleeting, but enough to imprint itself deep into Shoyou’s psyche. Kageyama’s smell, his soft hands, the weight of his body pressed against Shoyou. The strength in his hands.

The same strength he’d felt in their first year, when Shoyou had practically been thrown halfway across the court. The strength he witnessed daily in the speed of his serves, in the whip of his spikes, in the fluidity of his torso anytime he set the ball. He wasn’t unfamiliar with it, but he’d never thought he’d like the idea of it as much as he did in that moment.

Damn cat not giving him any attention.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

It was the beginning of summer, and Shoyou had had a major revelation that semester. Summer break was upon them, and Shoyou finally managed to tell Kageyama about his family’s plans for the holidays. How he’d be gone the entire summer and wouldn’t see him until the start of their third year.

The thought itself was harrowing on so many levels. He’d never gone so long without Kageyama by his side, and his new revelation hadn’t exactly aided him in telling him the unfortunate news. Kageyama, as per usual, wasn’t very concerned with the idea of Shoyou’s absence.

It stung more than it probably should have.

“Guess I’ll see you at school this winter,” he’d said, and continued walking ahead of Shoyou, bag slung lazily over his shoulder and his strides long and slow.

Shoyou watched him move for a moment. Watched slender fingers as they brushed through black hair, watched that defined back move beneath his shirt. Watched long legs stride onwards, and Kageyama’s broad back slowly recede. He caught up, quickly, and with his breath in his throat tugged at his sleeve until he turned.

He didn’t think twice before throwing himself into his open torso and burying his face in the warmth of his chest.

Shoyou was short, and Kageyama was not. They were each other’s opposites in so many aspects, but what warmed him the most was the physical. The way in which Kageyama’s looming presence was a safety spot, a mountain to lean on. The way his big hands and strong arms, broad back, was comfort like nothing else. The way he stood at the perfect height for Shoyou to lean his ear against his chest and listen to the slow, rhythmic beat of a well-trained heart going for a hundred-and-fifty-five.

He smelled good; familiar. His arms as they hesitantly wrapped around Shoyou felt big and strong, safe like nothing else. He could feel the restraint, the way he tried not to hurt Shoyou by squeezing the breath out of his lungs. So many things about that made his stomach do summersaults, one after the other, and his own heart rattled away in the confides of his ribcage.

 _Damn you, Hime, but I’m not losing to you,_ he thought as he opened his mouth.

“Kageyama, I like you,” he whispered to his heart. Breath a soft flutter against the worn, white fabric of Kageyama’s shirt.

Kageyama’s arms were warm around Shoyou, and his stupid dinner-plate hands wrapped around the entirety of each shoulder, until one wasn’t anymore.

His right hand came up to card nimble fingers through his hair.

“Look at me when you talk to me, dumbass,” he said and urged his head to tip back and look straight at him.

Shoyou thought, for the second it took their eyes to meet, that he hadn’t been heard, until he looked up and instead of furrowed brows and harsh words was met with gentle lips against his.

Those, too, were warm and soft, no doubt moisturized regularly.

It lasted a mere few seconds, but it’d been enough to set Shoyou’s world ablaze. They pulled apart and his eyes zoomed in on Tobio, and the blue in his irises, as he spoke.

“I’ll miss you a lot,” he said, and Shoyou believed him, because beneath the palm of his hand where it remained pressed against his chest—despite the façade of Tobio’s cooled expression—his heart beat a mile a minute.

And there, on the road they took every day, in a moment so normally mundane, he realized that Hime didn’t stand a chance, and that his summer away from Miyagi this time would be torturous beyond doubt.

And like everything else, soon enough, their afternoon kisses, too, became a very daily occurrence.

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, doesn't "For Him" by Troye Sivan just give yall the biggest Kageina vibes?
> 
> Happy Haikyuu Aniversary!!
> 
> xoxo


End file.
